


little red riding hood (even bad wolves can be good)

by mouth full of stars (excelestial)



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Biting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excelestial/pseuds/mouth%20full%20of%20stars
Summary: consume the tenderest flesh; a sonata played upon the bones of something feral





	little red riding hood (even bad wolves can be good)

The grin is predatory. 

Jack could feel the sinister curl of Randall's lips against his neck, wolfish and hungry. "You smell so good today," Randall drawls, his nose lined up with Jack's pulse point and trailing it up his throat with his teeth. The porch wood is hard against Jack's back, his chest still heaving.

"That's surprising considering I just ran five miles," there's a soft chuckle in Jack's comment despite the honesty in it. Randall's weight is on top of him, hips blocking Jack's own, a knee slotted between Jack's legs.

"You're so warm, Jack," Randall whispers against the small of Jack's throat, almost a secret that he's afraid to release into the world. A soft, breathy groan is all Randall gets in response- Jack squirming beneath his weight.

Their hips move in sync, something almost choreographed as Randall idly threads his fingers into the crashed waves of auburn hair atop Jack's head. Jack keens sweetly, a melodious sound that has Randall smirking doggedly. 

"Are we..." Jack's voice is broken, dazed in euphoria and elation, when he manages to finally find his words. "Are we really doing this on the porch?" 

Randall looks up to the sky, the sun beginning to peek over the horizon and the colors starting to bleed between the clouds. Lovingly, viciously Randall nips at Jack's throat, tasting the racing pulse. A soft, languid smile traces along Jack's jawline and Randall murmurs playfully, "Thank God we're not vampires, right?"

"Not so funny the tenth time you make that joke, Randall," Jack huffs, but it's breathy and hot. There's clear distraction and the hitch in his voice only becomes easier to notice when Randall runs his palm under his shirt, nails raking down Jack's stomach in near reverence as they map the shallow dips of muscles tending beneath his touch.

The fingertips grazing Jack's stomach are gentle, tender. They ride the subtle jut of Jack's hips, Randall always admired the sharp lines of Jack's body. Randall admired how reactive Jack was, despite his cold and collected exterior- how easily his walls crumbled when it was just the two of them, when the flesh sang a chorus and beckons like an angel to the fallen.

Pulling the sweatpants down, a low rumble of a growl filling Randall's throat at the heady scent of Jack's swelling cock. It's a primal urge, something grotesque and violent, spilling out of Randall, nails gripping the tender meat of Jack's sculpted thighs. Thin pinpricks of blood dot the immaculate marble of Jack's legs, a wolfish grin on Randall's face- one full of teeth and animalistic hunger. 

"You look so fucking good, Jack," Randall snarls out, low and gravelly, using his hand to push up Jack's shirt, fingers bunching up the sweat stained material. The nails are sharp, the wolf crawling out like a beast untamed, as they claim the skin stretched over the divine girdle of Jack's soft skin. Randall's fingers find a home around Jack's cock, thumb riding the under the swollen, fat head. 

Jack inhales sharply, eyes fluttering shut while his hips chase the caress of the hand on his cock. Down his throat and under his shirt, a flush paints Jack like a work of art. His breathing is heavy, shallow and lustful. Jack hums quietly as Randall's lips roll across his jaw like a flutter of wings. A shuddery gasp escapes Jack as the sharp, piercing bite of canines nip into the juncture of his shoulder. 

A tongue, wet and hot like a brand rides the gentle sting of the bite mark, and Jack moans quietly behind the plush rosy petals of his lips. "You like that, Jackie?" Randall drawls and it's sultry and sinister, like a dream that Jack never could imagine waking up from. The hand on Jack's cock is warm, such a contrast to the chill of the morning air on his skin. On his neck, teeth-  _fangs-_ draw along his throat, a silent threat that has Jack shivering, aching for something more. It's feral and heavy and torture that Jack craves like a beast on the prowl. A soft, sweet groan bubbles out of Jack, almost forbidden as his his hips buck against Randall. 

Randall growls into Jack's skin. Jack shivers something fierce, electric. 

"I'd love to do nothing more than spread you out and take you here, right on the front porch," Randall husks, teeth dragging threateningly along Jack's pulse point. In his palm, Randall can feel the hot, wanton throb of Jack's hard cock. Randall smiles, teasing, into the juncture of Jack's throat. He nips playfully at Jack's jaw, tasting desire on the flesh as he whispers, almost nonchalant, "claim you, right here. Right where anyone can see, make sure they know you're mine, all mine." 

Heat rises to Jack's cheeks, painted debonair like a renaissance piece. In his chest, Jack's heart pounds like a war hammer and threatens to burst out of the kennel of his ribs. His breath catches in his throat as he momentarily locks eyes with Randall. The hunger is unparalleled in Randall's gaze, feral and desperate, his eyes clouded and dark. It makes a shiver run down Jack's spine.

The fangs sink into Jack's throat, the sweet rush of blood staining Randall's tongue like a flame, consuming and burning his veins. Gasping Jack shudders, cock pulsing when his orgasm washes over him. The warmth of Jack's cum spills over Randall's fist, throbbing almost pathetically as Randall lazily teases his thumb back and forth along the weeping slit.

"You smell so go-" Randall's rasp is sweet and short, cut off by the harsh bang of the front porch door slamming into the side of the house. Jack stiffens beneath Randall, almost sinking into the comfortable heat of Randall's body. 

"Hey, jackasses," Lilith's snarl cuts like a knife, sharp and stinging, and very much in contrast to the soft fabric of robes being tossed at them. "If you're going to fuck, please do it somewhere where I can immediately leave and not have to see it next time." 


End file.
